no escaping when i start
by qaby
Summary: PR. Puck just wants a naked picture of his girlfriend. Rachel wants his opinion on something. They compromise.


He emits a guttural groan when he sees his phone light up from where it's laying on his dresser across the room, because seriously, he _just _got comfortable. Puck turns his head to the side and checks his alarm clock, scowling at the numbers when they read three seventeen a.m.

He sighs and pulls back the covers, dragging his feet for melodramatics as he walks the necessary five steps. A smirk appears on his lips when he sees that it's a picture message from Rachel, and he's suddenly glad she caught him before he drifted off, because she had made it a..._hobby _of hers to send him pictures of herself in lacy lingerie, or in some ridiculously hot costume, or just plain naked whenever she found herself missing him - and the _awesome _time he always showed her - and they were the fucking _best_.

It took some persuading on his part for her to feel fully comfortable with sending him these pictures, though.

It's not like she was self-conscious around him or anything, but she was afraid that he'd forward the picture to one of his friends or that it'd fall into the wrong hands and then it would circulate around the world, thus making it impossible for her to ever become a respected Broadway star.

He'd rolled his eyes and nipped at her earlobe as he whispered in her ear that he'd be _damned _if he was _ever _gonna let another male specimen see those pictures - what? That tight little body of hers is _his _- and that he'd erase them right after he jacked off to them. She had pulled back and stared at him with big, sparkly, disbelieving eyes that grew a shade darker in the time that it took him to give her a one-shouldered shrug.

So yeah, it's safe to say that he is the fucking _man_.

His hand is already tugging at the waistband of his sweatpants when it suddenly halts once he flips his phone open to find a picture of a red dress, and he gapes at the small screen in shock.

Once he registers what the fuck just happened, Puck shakes his head and grabs his keys off the nightstand, not even bothering to put on a sweatshirt or shoes as he continues on his hasty expedition to his truck, distractingly thanking the heavens that his mother had gone away for the weekend because of some convent for her job and had taken Charlie with her.

He narrows his eyes once his mind is refocused on his original objective as he places the key in the ignition.

She expects to get him _good _and _ready_ by having him believe that he'll soon be seeing his naked girlfriend only to leave him stunned to silence once he finds a stupid piece of clothing instead of the tits he expected?

_Fuck that shit._

...

Rachel's fingers tap against the mahogany of her desk in some monotonous rhythm that she's memorized and perfected as she awaited Puck's reply. She slumps her shoulders a little more with each passing second that she doesn't see his name across the screen of her BlackBerry, and a resignated sigh escapes her lips once she deducts that he must've fallen asleep.

She stands and moves towards the light switch when -

_Tap._

She turns swiftly and looks at her window, though with the light on, all her eyes detect is her reflection. She gulps and discreetly grabs her mace from the second drawer of her dresser as she moves toward the window, holding her choice of weaponry behind her back with one arm while the other one rests against her windowframe as she peers out into the night.

_Tap._

She jumps and lets out a small yelp, ignoring the goose bumps on her arms as she moves toward the glass, holding the mace more firmly as she opens the window and sticks her head out into the humid summer air.

"Berry!"

She holds her hand to her racing heart and nearly goes limp with relief when she recognizes Puck's voice. She furrows her eyebrows as she distinguishes his silhouette and sends a glare his way.

"Noah," she whisper-shouts. "What are you _doing_?"

She swears she can practically hear his eyes rolling from down below.

"You gonna let a guy in or not?"

The well-hidden diva - a scoff is in order - inside her begs her to place her hand on her hip and chuck the can of mace at his head, but she orders her more humble side to make an appearance. She huffs out a breath and closes her window, setting the mace back in its original resting place. She lithely makes her way down the stairs and gets ready to scold him as she opens the door.

The words die in her throat as her eyes roam hungrily over the defined muscles and tan skin of her boyfriend's _wonderful _bare chest and she licks her lips. He clears his throat and Rachel looks up to find him smirking at her and she ducks her head to hide the flush she was sure coated her cheeks.

He would chuckle if he wasn't too busy with his mission.

"The fuck is the meaning of this?" She glances up and sees him waving his phone in front of her, the message she sent him seven minutes ago displayed on the screen. The corners of her lips quirk and Puck scowls at her. "Who do you think you are?"

She raises an eyebrow and places her hands on her hips. _Enter Diva_. "_Excuse _me?"

He swallows and admonishes himself for being stupid. This is _Rachel _- the girl who tackled him to the ground (shut up, she's surprisingly strong for such a midget) when he said that he didn't give a fuck about Barbra Streisand or _Funny Girl _or any of that shit - in his defense, he _was _trying to get her to put out at the time, so he couldn't really focus on anything that was coming from her lips when he wanted in her promised land. Puck narrows his eyes and holds his ground.

"You can't just send me a picture this late at night - or should I say, this early in the morning, that doesn't include _you_ naked." He allows his eyes to graze over her appearance for the first time since he's entered her house and he stifles a groan when he sees that she's wearing the tiniest shorts he's ever _seen_ with one of his stolen McKinley shirts, because _damn_, seeing her in his clothes always makes him hot. He sets aside what his dick wants - for the time being - and looks back at her through steely eyes. "Why would you do that to me, babe?"

Her eyes widen by a fraction and she presses her lips firmly together to keep from laughing. She finds it amusing that he's disappointed enough from not getting a nudie picture to have driven all the way over here in order to scold her on the matter. Rachel can't help it, and a giggle escapes her lips as she replays the entire situation in her mind.

_Wrong decision._

Puck glares and turns around, muttering "I'm outta here," as his hand moves to wrap around the doorknob.

She chuckles and moves in front of him to wrap her arms around his waist, laying her head against his broad chest. She smiles when she hears him sigh and feels him embrace her. She looks up at him. "I'm sorry I didn't send you a revealing photograph of myself."

He juts out his chin and sniffs. "You should be. You know the rules."

She smacks his arm and bites her lower lip. "What did you think?" she asks quietly.

"About what?"

"The dress." When he gives her a quizzical expression, she traces her finger up and down his arm as a way to not let him see how nervous she is. "I was thinking about wearing it to prom..." she tells him, looking up at him through her eyelashes to see his reaction.

His eyes are half-closed and when she stops tracing his name on his arm, his eyes snap open. "Wait, what?" When she gives him a pointed look, he shrugs. "You should know by now that I'm not going to listen when you're doing that to me." At the raise of her disbelieving eyebrow, he shifts slightly in their embrace and she gasps when she feels his..._excitement._

"You are repulsive, Noah Puckerman!"

"Then why are your arms still around me?"

She looks down at their midsections still touching and releases him. Her eyes spit fire at him as she steps back and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Me. That dress. For prom."

Realization etches his features and he digs his phone out of his pocket. She sees his fingers press a few buttons and admires the way his face looks from the light from the phone illuminating it. His eyes widen slightly and she bites her lip anxiously as he keeps gawking at the picture.

"Holy fuck, babe," he breathes, meeting her worried gaze. "Hell yes!" A beat. "But wait, who are you going to prom with?"

She opens her mouth and closes it without any sound coming out for about ten seconds before she steps forward and smacks his chest, hooking her pinky around his nipple ring as she stares up at him with feigned innocence. "Wanna repeat that for me, _sweetie_?"

He rolls his eyes, even though he's scared _shitless_, because she'll tear his piercing right off if he doesn't say the right thing, and even though it's kinda hot, he doesn't think he'll have the same opinion when he's gushing blood. "Please, Rachel," he scoffs. "You know I don't go to those stupid school dances." She yanks at it slightly and he flinches. "But I'll make an exception."

She beams up at him, releasing his piercing, and he can't do anything else but smile back, because she's giving him _that _expression, the one that conveys all the love and adoration she feels for him in one smile, and he can't even form words to explain how much he likes seeing it on her face.

"I'd love to go to prom with you, Noah."

He leans down and presses his lips to hers softly, grinning when she lets out a protestant groan as he pulls away. Her arms wound around his waist once more and she lays her palm against his bare abdomen as her brown eyes bore into his.

"I really am sorry that I gave you the wrong impression when I sent that picture. Is there any way I can make it up to you?"

He smirks as he looks down at her, his hands moving to rest at her hips. "Model it for me."

"Your wish is my command."

She takes his hand and leads him up the familiar path to her bedroom. "You should _definitely _say that more often," he suggests, and his eyebrows furrow when she laughs. "What's so funny? I was serious."

She gives him a backward glance. "I know. That's why I found it so amusing." She opens the door to her room, and he internally gags at the _girly _surrounding him as mental images of all the times they had sex within these walls run through his mind and his eyes dart around her bedroom.

_Bed, check. Chair, check. Shower, check. Bathroom counter, check. Dresser, check. Up against the wall, check. Windowseat, ch - _

He frowns when he realizes that they have yet to christen her windowseat, but he immediately dismisses the idea when he sees Rachel move towards her closet. She takes the dress from a coat hanger and shows it to him, laying it over her body.

"That's not really modeling, is it?"

He shakes his head. "Not at all."

She smirks - yeah, _smirks_; Puck is so proud of his midget - and he watches with lustful eyes as she grabs the waistband of her shorts between her thumb and index finger, pulling them down achingly slowly, and dammit, he's _ready _and he can't take it anymore. He stands and grabs the dress from her, hanging it on the edge of her mirror before he pulls her (his) shirt over her head carefully, tossing it to the ground. He gently moves the hair out of her face and cups her cheek and he smiles when her eyes do that thing where they dart around every inch of his face.

"What about the dress?"

He stares at the material longingly, because holy fuck, he wants to see it on her; he's always told her she looks the hottest when she's in red. He shrugs, deciding that she and _they _were more important. "Model it for me later."

She nods, wounding an arm arond his neck as she pulls him down so she can kiss him. Her tongue darts out and licks his lower lip, asking for entrance, and chills run down his spine as he gives it to her, his hands moving to unclasp her bra. When air is necessary, they never break contact, his lips trailing kisses down to her shoulder and he bites the skin slightly, making his mark. She trails her hands down his chest and abdomen until they're resting at the waistband of his sweatpants. Her hand cups him through the material and he groans into her neck, managing to make the throb between Rachel's legs grow even stronger with need.

"Rach, fuck. Wait."

She stops her ministrations and looks up at him with worried eyes. "What is it? Did I do something wrong?"

He thinks it's adorable how concerned she is over her sexual performance, because seriously, after all the times that they've had sex, she should already be aware that she's the fucking best he's ever had.

"No, just." He grabs her hips and lifts her, and she instinctively wraps her legs around his waist, moans bubbling to the both of their throats when his hardness presses up against her warmth through their clothing. He stumbles until they reach her windowseat and he sits down, cupping her ass as she straddles him, giving her a sly smile. "Okay, continue."

* * *

**Reviews are love.**

**A/N: **I just really wanted to get a Puckleberry one-shot out of my system, and when this idea popped into my head, it seemed like the perfect opportunity, so that's my explanation. **textsfromlastnight **prompt below (seriously, that website is like, perfect for inspiration). Charlie is the name I use for Puck's little sister, because it's awesome. Title comes from the song "For Your Entertainment" by Adam Lambert.

**(319)**: How dare you send me a picture after midnight that isn't porn. You know the rules.


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